Time and Place
by Armand Clousseau
Summary: Book has an opportunity to do some shepherding on a backwater planet, while separated from the rest of the crew. Separated? Blame the Reavers... Seven Chapters.
1. Time and Place: Discussions

Disclaimer: The vast majority of the characters in this story are the creation of Joss Whedon and/or Tim Minear, as is the general setting. I'm really just playing around in their sandbox, and certainly don't seek financial gain from their effort. Amber and Han are my inventions, but the sort of people they are has also been suggested by the "Firefly" setting.

In as much as this story has a place in the timeline of the series, any time post Ariel and before Inara actually takes off should do the trick, but it might as well be taken as OC. It's more of a writing exercise than anything else. This being a fanfic, I assume that anyone reading it is familiar enough with canon characters to not need any serious descriptions or introductions.

Finally, the tiny inclusions of non-English I lifted from fireflyfans dot net-- if it's transliterated improperly, I'm sorry, and I pass the blame.

TIME AND PLACE

Chapter 1

The new bible was... acceptable. At this point in his life, Book knew better than to get attached to possessions, but the old one had been a gift. One of the few things he still had from before taking orders. He looked at the shelf where the various parts of his old bible lay in a small box. Possibly repairable, if opportunity presented itself.

He put the new bible aside for a moment, and set about getting dressed. The now-familiar sounds of ship's morning found their way through the bulkheads, and he smiled. Jayne and Simon were having yet another set-to, although he'd found Jayne somewhat subdued around the Doctor of late. Growing self-awareness? He didn't conduct himself much differently in other ways, though. No, it seemed likely that young Dr. Tam had something to hold over Jayne. Interesting. The boy was full of surprises.

A knock came at his door. He finished buttoning his jacket, and drew the screen aside. Kaylee smiled in at him. "Hiya, Shep! Mal said to make sure everyone got done breakfast in good time, since we're settin' down in about an hour."

"Good morning, Kaylee. Is the Captain expecting any trouble?"

"Oh, no," she replied, as she started walking along the corridor, forward to the kitchen. "Wash just got the weather report for Ebenezer port, and it's lookin' like the ride down could be excitin'. Mal wants to keep the mess clean."

"I'm sure he does," Book said at her back. Knowing her, he thought, she meant the joke. He took a step forward, then hesitated, patting his jacket pockets. Even after all these years, the habit could still slip. Shaking his head, he stepped back and collected the bible. Perhaps it was more than just a possession, after all. Hadn't he had that very argument with River about the old one?

* * *

"You can say that," Jayne said, and a small cloud of a substance not entirely dissimilar to scrambled eggs fell to the table in front of him. "But it don't make him any less dead."

"That's not my point." Simon Tam replied, looking with some dismay at the toast on his plate. He'd underestimated Jayne's range. "It's looking at the wider implications of the action."

"It's showin' off. Shoulda got some help."

Book came into the kitchen, and looked around the table, "What's that?"

"It seems the Doctor has drawn Jayne into a philosophical debate," Inara said. Her toast was wisely well off Jayne's sight-line. "Something about the good of the many, wasn't it?"

"Jayne seems to think," Simon said, abandoning his breakfast, "that the story of Horatio at the bridge is an example of Earth-that-was foolishness."

"I don't know," said Book, taking a seat. "Most religions I know suggest considering others before oneself."

Mal came in behind Book. As he lifted the pot-lid off the 'eggs', he said, "In my opinion, man's been dead long enough it don't much make a difference about the details. How about not getting Jayne stirred up in the mornin', Doc? You know it afflicts my digestion some." He ladled some of the muck onto his plate, sliding in beside Book.

Book knew he shouldn't needle the Captain, but it seemed safe enough this time. "You don't subscribe to notion of the right man in the right place, Captain Reynolds?"

Mal put a spoonful of eggish in his mouth as he considered Book. Swallowing, he said, "Rev, all my time in the war, the only time I ever saw one man in the right place, it was the right place to catch a bullet. Now, everyone eat up. We need to lock things down before hittin' atmo or we'll be a week diggin' it out of the lights.

* * *

The ride to the surface was as attention-grabbing as everyone had been told it would be. Reynolds was standing in the cargo bay, waiting to give final instructions before throwing open the doors. Everyone was in earshot now, except Inara, who had retired to her shuttle immediately after breakfast. She had made it clear that Ebenezer wasn't a moon on which she'd find any suitable employment, and she was going to spend her time booking appointments.

"OK, Wash tells me that it will be at least eight hours before this mess blows over-- that's overnight, since it's late afternoon, local. Zoe, Wash, Jayne, we've got a cargo to shift, and if that ain't done in an hour we might as well not bother. Doc, I'd take it as a kindness if you and your sister were out from underfoot for that hour-- in your room or in the town, it makes no never to me. Book, same thing. OK, let's get cooking." He punched the button to open the big doors.

Ebenezer was a study in grey and yellow. Although the winds here on the surface were less dramatic than aloft, there was fine grit blowing around the edges of the port structures, and obscuring the sky. Book looked out at the uninspiring scene. "There's a small chapel about a half-hour's walk from here I think I'll visit. Simon, do you think you and River might like to come along?"

"Thank you, no. River is having... a bad day. We'll just stay here."

Jayne stumped toward them, peering over the top of a pile of boxes. There was some strain evident in his arms. "Dint you hear the Capin," he grunted. "Clear 'way!"

Simon withdrew towards the guest rooms. Book turned, and walked down the ramp. He passed a knot of dusty, surly men that he took for the consignees of the current shipment. Two of them stood in the traces of an oversized rickshaw. It seemed that, like so many places on the fringe, human power was the most readily available means of moving loads here. Given how far humanity had come from this point, it pained him greatly that there were some who lived the simple life by someone else's choice.

Ebenezer was developed enough that the port was more than the flattest place close to town, though. A small terminal implied a regular transport, and that implied some resource the Alliance considered important. He hoped Mal was aware of it-- the terminal looked fairly new, so any Alliance interest was probably a fresh development.

There were a couple of bike-type rickshaws near the door of the terminal, but no sign of drivers. That was fine. He wouldn't want anyone pulling extra dust into their lungs on his account, and in any event, he was in no real hurry.

Simon was looking through his bag with some alarm. River had started the day agitated, and had become progressively worse. There was a sedative that she'd never had before, because he worried about the side effects, but she was getting frantic. Worst, the sort of nonsense she usually came out with in this state had been replaced by animalistic snarling. Occasionally a word or two came through clear, but there was little comfort in it.

* * *

"ALL PAY! ALL HATE!" River pounded her fist against the outer wall of their berth, hard enough to break the skin, and that was the decision for Simon. He dropped the vial of somnambutol into the air-injector. No good messing around with a needle.

"River...," he said, as gently as he could and still be heard above her racket. He held the injector in his right hand, and made an broad gesture with his left to try and hold her attention. He inched toward her. "Shh, mei-mei...."

"No! They're practically here! Stay awake! Stay away!" She began to run across the room, stepping across the bed, kicking books. He lunged for her, grabbing her left arm as she fled. She turned in an instant, returning grab for grab, and sunk her teeth into the meat of his forearm. For an instant he went tense at the pain, then pressed the injector against her ribs, pulling the trigger even as it landed.

In the few seconds before the drug took effect, River held onto his arm. She pulled her mouth off his arm, and looked up at him. "Wrong place. Wrong... time...."


	2. Time and Place: Impending arrivals

Chapter 2

The chapel was one of the oldest structures on the planet. Book stood just inside the narthex, looking with wonder at the dome. All built by one man, all rammed-earth construction. It wasn't a huge structure, by any means, but Book could not see himself managing the feat, even in his younger, more energetic days. To think that Warner was older than him when he had arrived on Ebenezer.

Everything except the single golden crucifix hanging in the apse was the grubby yellow of Ebenzer's dust. No pews in the nave, and a lack of rugs meant whoever celebrated here did it standing. The light came from LED pins strung above the apse, as there were no windows at all in the squat building.

Book stepped to the left, out of the doorway, and settled himself into _seiza_. Dirty knees were more than balanced by the chance to meditate inside the space such a sacrifice to faith had created. He began, as ever, with the breath. Soon enough, the familiar internal state was in place, and he began. One of the first things that he let go of was his time-sense.

One of the many things about Book that had made his superiors in the order dispair of him was his persistent unwillingness to completely abandon himself in a meditation. He maintained that there was always utility in being aware of someone approaching. As there was now.

* * *

Captaincy is a tricky thing. One is elevated to effective godhood, given both figurative and literal power of life and death over a crew, and control of the vast energies that allow space travel. On the other hand, depending the nature of the man or on where these powers descend from, this godhood can be a very effective prison. Han Yeun Lung mused on this frequently, staring across at the far towers of _IAV Impregnable_ from the command deck. 

He'd joined Alliance Forces in the last year of the war, although, as with any war, that was far from clear at the time. By the time he'd finished his officer's exams at Londinium Academy, the browncoats had been broken and the time of heroes was past. High enough marks to attract the eye of a fleet admiral looking for a good 2IC, high performance reviews in a gunship action against some holdouts who didn't accept the war's end, and the ultimate reward of his own cruiser. Here. The edge of nothing. You looked out the window and got a sense that the lights in the sky were other galaxies, not stars.

He listened in an absent way to Gascoyne's report. He knew it well enough after a month on the patrol route. Some rocks of almost no hazard to shipping. A dust cloud of entirely predicable dimensions. A great absence of threats, natural or man-made. Ebenezer, still where they left it, allowing for orbit. As always. He mustered the energy to avoid sighing.

"Telemetry reports an anomaly, out-system from us, approximately six hours standard drive distant," Gascoyne read from the bottom of the sheet. "A bit closer to Ebenzer than we are."

"Does telemetry define 'anomaly' at all, Mr. Gascoyne?"

"One moment, sir." He tapped the sheet to demand extra information. "Possible indication of engine power, multiple sources, but inconsistent." He frowned. "Sort of like engines being run briefly, then shut down."

"Interesting." Han was tapping a finger on his chin, the only outlet he'd allow himself, although inwardly he was vibrating like a sugar-filled teen. _Something_ was happening. A break in the routine and the drills. His orders didn't explain why the Ebenezer Facility was so important to High Command, but they'd surely want unusual engine signatures investigated. "Havea couple of fighters sent out, top speed, for a recon. See if there's anything there worth worrying about."

* * *

Mal sat in the better of Ebenzer's two bars. This was purely coincidental, as the worse was in a farm collective, a half-day's walk to the north. He didn't feel entirely himself, and paused a moment to investigate the problem. After a second, he realized what the odd sensation was-- relaxation. A cargo delivered and payment given without a hitch, the only ugly customer on the receiving end of the deal seemed to actually like Jayne, and the local potatoes made a vodka that didn't taste of anything exotic or life threatening. Rare day indeed. 

"You OK?" Zoe sat at the next table, her own tiny flask of vodka in front of her.

"Oddly enough, yes. When's Wash coming over?"

She made a vague gesture with her cup. "Soon. I told him Jayne was having fun without bloodshed, and he's anxious to get here. I think Kaylee's coming with him."

"No Simon?"

"Wash said he was tending to his sister. Told him she was more off than usual."

"Huh." He emptied his cup and reached for the flask. "I guess if anyone can tell, it's him."

Across the room, Jayne stood with several other rough men, some farmers, some tradesmen, others in less obvious lines of work. Most, Jayne included, had their left hands hanging on odd attitudes.

"Captain, what is Jayne doing, anyway?"

"Some kind of local arm-wrestling. If I understand it right, they just grip as hard as they can and the first one to cry uncle loses."

Zoe watched. The two competitors in the middle of the group stood staring at each other, left hands clenched together at chest level. It was too loud in the bar to hear, but it seemed to Zoe that their expressions implied a great deal of grunting. "Why left handed?"

Mal shrugged. "Suppose so that no one's work-hand is too badly crippled next day."

"Huh. Hope Wash gets here soon. He'd hate to miss watching Jayne hold hands with some strange man," she said with a smile.

* * *

Book looked up at the intruder. A small woman in a shapeless dress, who walked straight toward the altar, and seemed about as much of a threat as her weight in sparrows. Book smiled at himself. Some habits might slip, but others clung like a limpet. He watched her as she drew near the rail, wondering whether he should make her aware of his presence. 

She dropped awkwardly onto her knees, staring up at the crucifix. Clasping her hands in front of her, child-like, she sniffed loudly and said, "What should I do?"

Book dropped his chin onto his chest, closed his eyes, and began to make a soft snoring noise. He heard a sudden intake of breath by the woman, and decided it was loud enough to wake him. "Hm? Oh... I'm sorry. I seem to have drifted off. I hope I didn't startle you."

He rose, dusting off his knees. The pants would definitely need cleaning. He took a step forward, smiling what he felt was one of his more harmless smiles. The woman was struggling to her feet, and Book realized that she was getting towards the end of a pregnancy. "No, Father. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...."

"That's all right, child." He hadn't really meant to say that, but it was very apt. He would be very surprised if she were more than nineteen. "I'm reasonably certain that all are welcome in this place."

She looked at him as if he'd said something odd. After a pause that was almost uncomfortably long, she asked, "Are you going to be the new Shepherd here?"

"No." He was taken aback. "Is there no Shepherd in residence?"

"Father Gallivan had a heart attack two months ago. The parish sent a wave, but there's not a lot of transports get out here." Book was again stuck by an oddness. She wasn't lying, but she clearly had something else on her mind. Book stood quietly, hoping she'd fill the silence. "Can you hear a confession?"

"I can if you are troubled in your mind, dear. Give me a moment to prepare."

* * *

The images were appalling. Scows, the most miserable craft he'd ever set eyes on, parts lashed on without any seeming sense of order. Han stared at the vid coming back from the lead fighter. For all their haphazard appearance, the ships had an unmistakable air of menace-- whoever had tinkered them together had made them ugly as stonefish. 

"How many?"

The petty officer checked her screen. "It's a bit unclear, sir. Fifteen at least. Some of these, though... it's almost as if they're towing some rocks with them. It's almost too sloppy to call a formation."

"Best guess, Malchyk," Gascoyne said quietly.

"Anywhere between fifteen and thirty vessels," she said almost instantly. "They've got anywhere up to a hundred lumps of rock with them, and it's making a hash of the readings. There," she pointed at the screen, "that lump has an engine attached to it. I've never seen the like, sir."

"Numbers aside," Han said, "where are they heading?"

As Malchyk drew breath, the screen flared. "The hell?! Signal lost, bringing up Slick Two." She tapped on her console, and Han could hear a voice leaking out of her headset, pitched high with stress. The screen image came back, showing a fading fireball, tiny angular debris silhouetted against it. "Slick Two reports One is splashed, likely a particle beam. Two is maneuvering to disengage."

"Where are they heading, Petty Officer?" Han was holding his hands together behind his back. His gloves would hide the white knuckles he could feel. He was abstractly pleased that he sounded so calm.

"Current vector has them in orbit, Ebenezer, one hundred and ninety minutes. Possible planetfall not earlier than two hundred minutes... I'd guess a little longer, given how jim-crack those things look, sir."

Han turned to the plotting table. "What's our best time to Ebenezer, Warrant Black?"

"Two hundred ten minutes if we push to one hundred ten percent, sir, and we'll shitcan half our regulators doing it. Four hours plus if we keep it under the limit."

Han looked around the command deck. Well, it's what you dreamed of. "Very well. Warrant, set the vector for Ebenezer at one-ten power. Engineering to GQ now, combat crews to GQ in thirty minutes...."

"Slick Two splashed," Malchyk intejected. "Weapon unknown, no beacon."

"Who the hell are these people?" Han realized he'd let his control slip even as he said it.

Gascoyne leaned close to him. "Sir, I've been on the fringe a long time, and I've heard stories...."

Han cut in quietly, "Don't sugar coat it, Mr. Gascoyne. If you've got something to say, say it."

"Reavers."

Han hadn't been on the fringe for so long, but he'd heard of the Reavers too. Abominations, no longer human in any way beyond rough outline.... "So many?"

Gascoyne shrugged. No story spoke of more than one Reaver ship appearing at one time, but some of the outposts which had been wiped out were more than one ship could have handled, even crammed from bilge to top-plate with berserkers. He knew the Core blamed most of those incidents on Independent holdouts... but he'd also heard the stories of the Reavers. Standing orders were for minimum possible contact with civilians, but he wasn't willing to let the people on Ebenezer face this sort of thing unaided. He could always justify it as moving to defend the Facility.

"Comm, send a wave to Ebenezer, all recievers. Send this: Force of fifteen plus hostiles approaching, planetfall under two hours. Local militia to activate, civilians should seek safety away from habitation. End. Run for your lives, folks," he added quietly. "Mr. Gascoyne, what forces did we leave there?"

"One platoon at the Facility. I think there might be some pitchforks and axes in the main town, not so many axes at that outlying farm."

"No need to be flippant, Gascoyne. Comm, prepare a situation report for Zone Command."


	3. Time and Place Flight and concealment

Chapter 3

Wash was reasonably certain that he was the angriest man in the 'verse at this moment. Zoe kept calling with updates on Jayne's progress in the big man-hand-holding contest, and he kept not finding his camera. One more look around the cockpit, and then to the devils with it, he'd just rely on his memory.

The camera remained elusive, and he was turning to leave when the flashing light on the console caught his attention. All-points waves were pretty rare, and Jayne would probably hold a couple of more hands. He opened the screen and read the message.

"Wu de ma...," he felt himself freezing, and pushed himself to grab the radio mike. "Zoe! Zoe! For the love of... ZOE!"

"What is it, sweetie?" She was damnably calm. He couldn't believe she could be so calm at a time like this, despite the tiny bit of logic in his head that told him she didn't know it _was _a time like this.

"Guh... get Mal, get everybody back now! Right now! Big trouble!"

At the bar, Mal heard him on the radio's speaker. Wash may have been many things, but unnecessarily panicky wasn't one of them. Zoe keyed the mike. "What is it?"

"Alliance ship just broadcast," he said, and Mal was already on his feet. Only Zoe heard him finish. "Reavers coming."

Zoe threw tables out of her way rushing to the door. Mal had Jayne by the collar, pulling him along off-balance, and the three of them rushed into the gathering gloom outside.

* * *

"How long has it been since your last confession?" Book stood in the narthex, facing the chapel door. If anyone else came in, he could halt the confession without it being revealed. 

"A while more than it should be...," she said, her voice echoing from the far side of the wall. "About four months before Father Gallivan, uh, left us... six months, I guess."

"And have you sinned in this time?"

"Yes, Father. I'm terrible guilty of gluttony, I eat more than my husband, and he works at the lumber mill while the sun's out." He could hear a hitch in her voice. Could this be troubling her so badly?

"Child, you are growing another person. There's no evidence of gluttony on you, and you need not worry. Is there anything else you need to confess?"

There was a long pause. Book let her work up to it. "I think... I... Father, I've been thinking of murder."

He took a breath. Before he had finished, a siren, distant but loud, broke the silence outside.

* * *

Jayne was in the lead by the time they reached _Serenity_. Mal crossed the ramp behind Zoe, and hit the closer. He saw Kaylee looking down from the catwalk, and the Doctor peering through the hatch to the passenger dorms. Jayne was belting up the stairs for the crew quarters like he was on fire by the time the doors started to move. Outside, a piercing siren began to wail. 

Mal turned to look up. Wash was peering down from the forward catwalk. "Wash, some details, please?"

"There's a system-wide on the Cortex from an cruiser, says Reavers comin', be here in...," he checked his watch, closed his eyes while mentally calculating, "...less than an hour and a half."

"Wait a minute. _Alliance_ ship says Reavers are coming?"

"Well, not in so many words, but they do say head for the hills because of a _fleet_ of 'hostiles'. Which means we lift in the next twenty minutes or we got Reavers chasing us."

Mal looked around, counting heads. "Where's Shepherd Book?"

Simon took a step forward. "He, ah, said he was going to visit a chapel...."

"I knew today was too smooth." Mal looked around again, considering. "Okay, Wash, let's get out of here, fast as you can."

Kaylee ran forward as Wash scrambled back to the cockpit. "Cap'n, you can't just leave him here!"

"If I knew where he was, I'd find him. If I could lift every soul in the gorram town, I'd do that, too. We don't have time to argue the matter, so you make sure Wash has the power he needs to get us clear." Kaylee stood for a moment, staring at the now-closed inner door, and he gave her a little push toward the engine compartment. "Mind me, Kaylee!"

"Hey!" Jayne called from above, lashing a giant sidearm to his waist. "How come we're not gone?!"

"Working on it. Help Doc and Zoe get everything strapped down again, it's gonna be bumpy again." He picked up the intercom. "Wash, when we get up, hold at two hundred meters, and put me on the PA, full volume. We'll see if we can't do some good before we leave the world."

* * *

Book stood outside the chapel, looking back towards town. The siren had only run for thirty seconds, but the woman had rushed out as well as she could when she heard it. Book had followed, and now watched as _Serenity_ rose above the treeline. He put a hand on the woman's shoulder to steady himself, hoping she took it for comfort. 

"Attention!" Mal's voice boomed from the ship, cutting through the roar of the ship's jets. "We got a report from the Alliance that a mess of trouble is headed this way, be here in about an hour and a half. They say you should clear out as well as you can, and they're right. Stay away from town until someone gives you an all-clear, it's worse than dyin' to hang around. Probably Reavers, and a lot of 'em, so don't get some notion of stickin' around to defend your property. It's not worth it. We'll be back when we can, Shep."

A few seconds later, the ship was lost in the now-patchy overcast. There was a vague sussurus from town, above the noise of the wind. Whether Mal's advice was good or not, it seemed to have stirred up the whole town. He felt the woman quivering under his hand.

"I'm sorry, but we haven't been properly introduced," he said, stepping forward to address her directly. He held out his right hand. "My name is Book."

She stared at his hand for a few seconds, then took it. Her hand was very cold, and there was no pressure in her grip. "Amber Gr... Oxley. Sorry. I'm still getting used to a new last name."

"Amber, I think it may be wise for us to find a new place to carry on our conversation. Can you think of anything more secluded than the chapel?"

She darted her eyes along the path to town. "Brent will be home soon, I should...."

"I think he'll be happiest if he doesn't find you at home tonight. Where might we hide?" He was working at keeping his benign smile in place, but he felt anxiety pulling at his guts. He'd had enough to do with Reavers in the past year, and each time it seemed a closer brush.

"We could... Warner's house! It's perfect! I went there with some of the other girls when I was young, but no one visits it any more!" She started walking almost exactly the opposite direction from town. He was willing to wait for explanations.

* * *

As _Serenity_ came out of the atmosphere, Mal made his way to the cockpit. "Wash, this mudball's got a moon or two, right?" 

"Let's see...." He checked a screen. "Yeah. Marley, Tim and Pokey. Marley's the only one big 'nuff to be round."

"Good. How about we set down there, daylight side?"

"Mal, we should just do a full burn, get clear...."

"Hold on," Mal said, holding up a hand. "You figure we're _totally _outside their detection right now?"

"Well...."

"Yeah. I figure we sneak over there, land just behind the dawn terminator, do a shut down. Heat of the sun on the hull should make us hard to tell from background, and there's nothing else there, right? No reason for anyone to come looking."

Zoe had entered behind him, and had listened to the plan. "How long do you figure we stay there, sir? Sooner or later, we'll have to make a run."

"If the Alliance cares enought about this place to send a warning, they're apt to send help. I bet we sit for a day, the purplebellies will come to the rescue. Wash, head for Marley."

Zoe turned to leave. "You do realize that if _anyone_ notices us, we're dead?"

"Helps to keep things interesting, doesn't it?"

* * *

When Amber stopped, Book had an idea she may be lost. They were out of sight of the chapel, and in the gloom of the gathering dust he could see a steep drop-off to the right. Amber had stepped somewhat to the left, and was looking around the long grass, as one might do trying to find a faint trail.. No sign of a house. 

"Here it is," she said, and reached into the grass. She lifted a long rectangle of the forest floor, and as Book stepped to assist her, he saw that where it came up there were rough stairs leading down from the free end. He held the door up for her, and she carefully descended into the darkness below. After a few moments, he followed, all the while trying to remember the myth of Orpheus. Nothing appropriate came to mind.

As he lowered the trap back into place, he could begin to make out the dimensions of the space they had entered. There was a single long room with a vaulted roof, and a large, rather off-square window at the far end, with a few panes still in place. It seemed bare of furniture. Book took a step off the stairs, reaching a hand out to the wall to steady himself. Dirt. Warner's House was more of a burrow. The window must have been set into the slope. Amber was about half-way to the window, patting the wall.

"Sorry. There used to be fairylights in here, but looks like someone stripped 'em out."

"It's just as well," he said, slowly moving further from the stairs. His night vision was not what it had been. "Lights and hiding are rather at cross purposes. Besides, it looks like we'll have plenty of light soon enough."

He pointed out through one of the absent panes in the window. A small, slightly pinkish moon was peering over the far rim of the wide valley the window looked over, its light flashing off a heavily ox-bowed river on the valley floor. If it wasn't full, it was close to it.

"How long do we stay here?" Amber was still standing where her search for the lights had ended. She held her arms folded over her belly, and shivered a little.

"As long as we have to, child. Until it's safe, which God willing won't be too long. Now," he said, stepping beside her, "we have some unfinished business."

She turned toward him suddenly. "What?"

"You're in mid-confession, Amber. I'm going to stand over here and watch the moon come up, and you can finish unburdening yourself."


	4. Time and Place: Settling In

Chapter 4

"Mr. Gascoyne, order the gunships away and begin decel." Han watched the feeds developing on the plotting board. The swarm of red vectors indicating the hostile formation was almost on top of Ebenezer, and all too close to the edge of the board. The only green indicators he had was his fighter screen, and those were dots, holding station around _Impregnable_. A few seconds later, twelve fresh vectors appeared, close aboard, as his squadron of gunboats boosted away from their cradles. They lengthened rapidly, but there was no chance they would make intercept.

Worse, part of the perceived speed of the gunships came from _Impregnable's_ braking. Massive and powerful as it was, the cruiser had to begin slowing long before engagement if it was to do any more than streak past Ebenezer. At current speed, they would actually reach the planet before the hostiles could land, but would be past it almost before a lock-on was possible. The lighter gunboats could brake more rapidly, and might be able to catch some of the intruders still aloft. Han looked more closely at the top of the plot.

"Warrant Black, is this reading properly?"

Black checked his console, looked back at the plot. "Yes, sir. Looks like thirty bogeys making for intercept."

"That should make life a lot easier." Han smiled. "Inform fighters and gun crews, stand by for engagement."

"Uh, sir? We've got optics on the bogeys. The ones maneuvering for intercept are all those motorized rocks. The ships are staying on course for Ebenezer." Black was a career rating, and at least twice Han's age-- Han couldn't remember precisely just now. He actually sounded nervous, and he'd been through the war. Time, he thought, to be a fine captain indeed. He straightened his spine and put his hands behind his back, adopting his best recruiting poster pose.

"Very good. Inform the gun crews they'll have some practice before the main event, and let's have a check of the point-defence systems while we're waiting for something to happen." He waited for action to start, then adjusted his cap. No one could possibly mistake the gesture for wiping sweat from his brow.

* * *

"All put to bed, Mal." Kaylee's voice came tinny through the intercom. He stood in _Serenity's_ nose, looking up at the planet. Like most planets at a distance, it seemed quiet. He reached for the microphone. 

"Thanks, Kaylee. Everyone listen up, we need to stay quiet here, so if you go to the kitchen, don't run the microwave. Best to stick with cold drinks and sandwiches." He heard Wash securing the pilot station as he spoke. Hanging up the mike, he said, "Wash, where about is town from here?"

Wash consulted a screen, then came over to where Mal stood. "That cloud formation there is what just about shook our teeth out. Town's about half a finger-width into the night side right now. Why?"

"Just curious." Mal didn't take his eyes off the planet.

"OK. I'm going to go and see if I can get some final carnal pleasures from my wife before we're all slaughtered. Have fun watching the planet."

* * *

"You said something about murder," Book said. 

"Mmm-hmmm. Is it a sin, thinking about it? I haven't done murder, but it's in my heart to do it."

"It... depends," he replied. He paused a half beat, letting her believe he was pondering the matter. "The action counts much more than the deed, of course, but harbouring the notion does your soul no good. Is it someone who provokes you?"

"No...," she said, so quietly he could hardly hear her. "But... it's better if he never... how can it be a sin if the killing's a kindness?"

"Ah. Someone is sick, then?"

"No." Another pause, a soft sniff. "How could you understand?"

"It's my job to try. Maybe if you tell me who it is you're thinking of killing, we can sort it out between us."

"Jules... my baby."

* * *

The gunships were, to put it gently, taking a beating from the rocks. Han watched as another one vanished off the screen. He hadn't expected Reavers to have homers as good as that-- their reputation as a bunch of bipedal animals militated against it. Reputation aside, there were still nine of them functioning well enough for engagement. What worried him was that some of the rocks, the really big ones, had ignored the gunships and were tracking _Impregnable_. The point-defence weapons would handle a missile well enough, but missiles were relatively flimsy. He wasn't sure how well the system would manage rocks massing as much as four tonnes. 

Best, he thought, if the test doesn't happen at all. "Let's get the main guns tracking on those," he said, pointing at the indicators on the screen. "Knock them down as far out as practical."

"The gunships are three minutes from engagement," Black reported. "Number six reports engine damage, they can't brake enough for orbit."

"Six? That's... Flight Lieutenant Shapely, isn't it" Gascoyne nodded. "Very well. Tell them to fire a volley on the way past and make their way back as well as they can."

"Captain," Black said, "I've got an image from Gunship 3 you might want to look at."

Han leaned in. The image had the familiar distortions of a greatly magnified view, but he could make out the components lashed to the asteroid well enough. Engine, fuel store, RCS pods... he tapped a finger on the screen. "Well, there's why they track so well."

Gascoyne craned to see what the Captain was pointing at. A rough sphere of glass and metal, set well back on the long axis, and just visible in one of the glass panels, a head and shoulders. A cockpit.

* * *

Book whirled and gaped at Amber before he could master himself. "You mean to kill...," he said, pointing towards her belly, "your _own_ child?" 

She took a step back, but didn't turn away. Book could hardly make her out at the far end of the house, just her dress, hanging ghostlike in the gloom. No, there was something else he could see-- a glimmer of reflected moon off something in her hand.

"Wise woman over at North Farm, gave me poison, told me how much to use. Been trying to get up the courage to use it. Stay over there, Father, or I'll drink it all down and kill me and Jules both."

Book held up his hands, remaining otherwise motionless. "There's no need for that, child. To answer your original question, there's no sin in the thought of murder, but remember that you haven't finished your confession. Best not to do anything here you might regret at great length. Why don't you sit down on the stairs, and I'll rest against the wall here. Now, why do you want to deny Jules his time in the sun?"

As he spoke, he noticed a slight increase in the light caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see a large shooting star fall to pieces and extinguish.


	5. Time and Place: Developments

Chapter 5

Jayne stood beside Mal in the cockpit. His gaze moved constantly as he tried to follow the action above them. As the action was hundreds of kilometers away and defined entirely by explosions, it was a difficult pursuit.

"Wow. Them Alliance guys got some mighty impressive guns."

Mal had tried as best he could to keep watch on the place he thought the town was. Something had entered atmo a bit earlier, but it seemed too bright to have been a ship. A working ship, anyway. "Yeah. Very shiny and green. Looks like the Reavers are giving them a good workin' over, tho'."

"So... we're just sittin' here 'til everyone's done shootin'?"

"Yep."

"Then we're leavin'."

"After we get the Shepherd, yeah."

Jayne gave up on the conflict outside. He looked hard at Mal for several seconds. Mal was aware of it, but chose not to respond until Jayne spoke. "If Reavers go down there, we don't want to pick up whatever they leave behind. Anyone knows that."

"Still gotta check."

Jayne looked away from him, his lips compressed in anger. This bizarre lack of pragmatism in someone he generally considered reasonably good at crime was deeply and frequently troubling. It lowered profits and raised extra risks, both of which he avoided whenever possible. Still, Mal had managed to swing a ship of his own with this strange approach to life, so Jayne allowed that he might have some kind of insight lacking in himself. This allowance stretched very thin indeed where Reavers were involved.

He had another look at the distant battle. Three red streaks appeared on the face of the planet, running parallel, then curving toward a point of convergence, not far into nightside. He pointed, nudging Mal as he did so. "There. No point goin' back 'less we're looking for tips on cookin' priests."

* * *

Amber seemed to not have noticed the passage of the fireball. As Book's eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make her out on the stairs, head hanging. The bottle was still in her left hand. He took a careful step toward her, nothing more than changing his balance. He was pretty sure he could talk her around, but wanted to close the distance somewhat in case swift action were called for.

"Sometimes I think Hell is just like here," Amber said. Book wasn't sure if she'd looked up or not.

"Hell is like... life?"

"No. Like Ebenezer." She definitely looked up, now. "I ain't got any real learnin', father, but I ain't dumb. I hear about life out in The Core, and I see some of the folk that get sent here by the govmint, and I do some thinking. Something I got plenty of time for, here.

"I think about the future. About what I'm goin' to do with the rest of my life. You know what I 'spect I'm going to do with the rest of my life?"

"I can't imagine." He shifted his weight again, tilting himself slightly in her direction. Just being an attentive listener.

"The same thing I done since I was ten. Chores. Cookin'. Cleanin'. Makin' clothes. That's all there is here. Maybe if there was a school, there might be some chance, but that's all there is. For anyone."

Book's head tilted slightly. "And that's why you're thinking of taking this... drastic measure?"

"I can't get it out of my head, Father. I keep thinking, there's only two differences between people and cows on Ebenezer: cows don't know what 'boring' means, and eventually the cobbler needs some leather so they don't have to wait so long to finish up. I didn't choose this way, and I sure don't mean to force it on anyone."

He turned his body to face her more directly, only coincidentally inching closer. "Have you ever heard of the Buddhist notion that a child's spirit chooses it's parents?"

Her response was lost in an almighty roar. Dust sifted down from the ceiling, and Book felt a tiny clump of roots fall on his head. How long, he wondered, has this burrow been here, unmaintained? He stepped closer to the wall. He had spent enough time in ports to recognise the noise of something _big_ moving faster than sound. This one was far too low, and that was never good. He looked out the window again. There were two... no, three contrails looping under the moonlight. The visitors had arrived.

* * *

_Impregnable_ has stopped shaking, and the damage control Chief reported that there was nothing in any real danger of coming loose. "Only about forty dead in the affected compartments," he'd said, and Han had to remind himself that that man, another lifer, had also seen combat previously. 'Only' about forty of _his_ crew, smashed to vapour or blasted out into the void by suddenly traitorous air pressure, watching the ship grow distant in the moments before the fluid in their eyes boiled....

At least the guns had stopped the other rocks. He allowed himself a shudder at the thought of the damage three or four such impacts might have done. He looked at Black, whose left hand was pressed over his eye-- a reminder that there were more injured than dead aboard his ship. Black had thus far denied any corpsman's attentions, dismissing the gouge in his forehead from suddenly striking the console as a mere scratch. "Warrant Black, update time estimate."

"We can launch missiles in three minutes, guns in range in four-thirty."

"Very good. Cut all the fighters loose. Ask Major Hopper to get his troopers loaded up and ready for drop in ten minutes." The troops would go straight to the Facility, of course. They'd run the intruders off the planet, hunt them down as thoroughly as possible here in space, but only to make sure the Facility was safe. The locals would have to fend for themselves until the sweep teams passed through town.


	6. Time and Place: Forming Conclusions

Chapter 6

The thunder had died outside their shelter, which meant that someone had landed. That was probably not such good news. He looked in Amber's direction, and asked, "So, do you think it's possible that Jules made a conscious choice, that he chose to come to this place?"

Book could see her eyes now, reflecting the moonlight. Shorty, the moon would rise enough to be off her face. She clearly hadn't expected the question, and was some time thinking.

"But... there's _nothing _here. Why would he?"

Book smiled. She was still considering the question, and that was good. "Well, if the Buddhists are right, maybe he was in a hectic place in his last life and wants a rest. Maybe... he specifically set on you as the best possible mother available at the time."

A brief flash of teeth in the dark, as a smile stuttered across her face. "No, I'm no mother...."

"Not yet. Not entirely."

"No. Not ever. You don't understand what it's like here." She wiped a hand across her cheek. "If you knew...."

"You're making assumptions about me, now," he replied, still smiling. "For all you know, my life started on a less appealing place than Ebenezer. Maybe like Higgins' Moon or Jiang Shr? There are worse places, and people still have children there."

"Irresponsible bastards have children in places like that."

Book felt his smile slip a little, and shored it. "True. But not exclusively, and that doesn't have mean the child will be the same. Sometimes, even in the most backwards of places, a great poet or philosopher might be born. Neither you nor I can judge how a child may grow, wherever it is born."

She shook her head emphatically. "That's the problem. What if it's a smart boy? What if every day, he feels...." She gestured as she spoke, literally groping for a word. "Gifted? Every day, he knows that if he was somewhere else, he'd be able to do something with the gifts God gave him. How could I do that to him?"

Book looked at her a long while, considering his response. Drifting along the valley, he could hear distant screams through the broken window. Not encouraging. He hoped Amber, at the far end of the room from the window, couldn't hear them. "Forgive me for saying so, but I think perhaps when you say things like that, you're talking about yourself."

* * *

"There they are." Mal pointed into the sky between Ebenezer and Marley's horizon. A bright green star was moving rapidly against the backgound. "Lets see...." 

He moved to the astrogation controls, paused while he remembered how they worked. Wash usually handled this, too, but from the noises filtering up through the deck in the crew dorms, he'd convinced Zoe the end was indeed nigh. Finally, the memory fell into place, and he swung _Serenity's_ telescope around to find the object. A few moments later, the distant, spiky shape of an Alliance cruiser stood out against the star-field.

Jayne returned from the kitchen, a mug in his hand. "What's that?"

"The good guys just arrived. We're all saved." He pointed to screen.

Jayne nodded. "Less'n they spot us. I don't think they're gonna check ID before shootin'."

"That's why we're just an oddly-shaped outcropping of r...whoa." When he had answered to 'Sargeant', Mal Reynolds had been a ground-pounder. A couple of times, most notably at Serenity Valley, he'd seen a cruiser drop in close for fire support. He had been horrified and impressed with the amount of hell that fell off of one. It had never occurred to him until now, as they watched the distant ship launch a salvo of missiles, that they might have been holding back

He looked at Jayne. Jayne was slack-jawed, staring at the screen, even at the visible effects of the volley faded. He checked himself. Also slack-jawed. He gathered himself a little. "Jayne?"

"Yeah, Mal?"

"You remember what I said about hot drinks?"

Jayne looked slightly befuddled, then glanced at the mug he held. "Oh! No, it's water. Say, how 'bout I go unplug that microwave?"

"That seems like an excellent idea," Mal said as Jayne hurried towards the kitchen.

* * *

Han watched as the missile volley struck the enemy formation. It amazed him that after more than five hundred years of development, the technology still occasionally failed. Of course, with the messiness of the formation, and screen of asteroids, some misses were to be expected. 

They were now in gun range. The Reavers were trying their particle gun, but at this range, the stream was too diffuse. _Impregnable's_ cannon would have some spread too, but their size and power made it less of a concern. The enemy ships still in orbit began to burn.

* * *

Amber was sobbing loudly. Book said nothing, and strained to hear if anything else was happening outside. The screaming was trailing off, but he couldn't tell if it was because the screamers no longer felt the need, or were just running out of the ability to scream. He hoped it was the former. 

He wondered what to do if the Reavers found this burrow. Amber had her bottle of poison, and hopefully it was a quick one, but all he had was the somewhat dubious shield of faith. He rather doubted a mendicant like himself, off without a mission _per se_, would rate as a martyr. Unlikely, since the Reavers weren't making any sort of spiritual point when they butchered people-- were they? He'd have to suggest it as a study topic the next time he waved the Abbey, God willing.

Amber had her face in her hands. He'd pushed a button, without a doubt. By her feet, well-illuminated by the moon, sat her bottle. Book's smile relaxed, became more genuine. He took a step forward, and she didn't react. Another step, a pause, and then very casually he closed half the distance between them.

"Amber." She looked up, and was clearly surprised at how close he was to her. "I want to explain some things to you, and I need to be certain that you trust me. First, it's probably best if you pick up that bottle. I wouldn't want us to forget it here, and leave it for someone to stumble on.."

She wiped her arm under her nose, staring at him. Slowly, clearly expecting a trick, she reached for the bottle, picked it up, and held it close against her chest. He put his hands behind his back, and still smiling asked, "Now, if I had meant to, do you think I could have kicked that bottle to flinders before you noticed me coming over here?"

She nodded. "So, why do you think I didn't?"

She looked at the bottle quickly, as if to assure herself it were really there, then said, "Wouldn't solve anything."

"Right you are. At worst, I've saved you another trip to the wise woman. I'm hoping for a more long-term solution in any case. May I sit beside you?"

She nodded, and scooted over a bit. He lowered himself onto the step, and steepled his hands, elbows on his knees. "It's a requirement of those in my line of work to believe in life. I would be lying if I told you that I thought that killing your child were anything else than a sin. I might moderate that if there were evidence that he were somehow malformed... that isn't the case, is it?"

"No."

"All right. From a spiritual point of view, there is no justification for killing Jules, and no way to avoid... repercussions if you do so. Let nature take it's course. If he decides in his time to leave Ebenezer, by whatever means, then so be it."

Amber looked at him, an expression of amazement on her face. She sniffed, and said, "You still think bringing him into this world, the stinking go se planet, is _right_? The Reavers just prove it. Better if we all just give up and get out. I thought that's why you left the bottle be."

Book returned her look, wide-eyed. "But I...."

"Father, you're dead right on one thing-- a lot of what I been thinkin' about Jules is the same as I think about myself. But that don't change nothing. It makes it worse. Do you know _why _I was crying?" Book shook his head. "I was remembering how long it's been since I felt good about life."

There was another roar of engines from outside. Ships lifting. They both looked at the window, but the scene it offered remained darkly serene and uninformative.

"Maybe it's a sin to kill him. Maybe it is. Father, when I came to the chapel tonight, I was looking for some kind of sign. I was hoping I'd hear a voice in my head say 'Yes' or 'No'." She sighed heavily. "Silly. I know God don't work like that."

The sound of ships lifting was joined by the scream of others descending. Great ripping noises and ragged explosions followed, attenuated by distance.

"Father, I don't know if I'm going to drink this or not. I got about a month to figure it out. But whatever I do, Father, _I've_ got to figure it out. I hope I get it right."

Book considered her, his head tilted slightly. Even in the darkness, he could see her eyes were still brimming. He considered his options. He could easily take the bottle from her; even with the age difference, he had size and experience working for him. That would settle things for tonight, and maybe as long as it took _Serenity_ to return. He could ask her husband to help him keep and eye on her, if he broke the seal of the confessional. He could do either, and add shattered trust and possibly even a loss of faith to the list of this young woman's complaints....

"Is there anything else you wish to confess?" He had to raise his voice slightly over the growing sounds of mayhem outside. The far side of the valley was occasionally illuminated by flashes. Amber shook her head. "Very well. For the sin of gluttony... well, I already said that wasn't a sin, didn't I? As to thinking of killing, I have a special penance. You have in you hands there the capacity to take life.

"I want you to carry this as long as you carry that." He brought his right hand out of his pocket, and held out his bible. Amber reached for it, but didn't take it.

"Father... I never learned letters."

"That's all right, child," he said, holding it closer to her hand. "Think of it as a symbol. A way of giving life. Perhaps, if you choose as I hope, you can use it to help your son learn."

She finished the movement, taking the bible from him as if she thought it might burn her. She sat, looking at the book for several seconds. "That's all?"

"Go now and sin no more," he replied, smiling. Outside, a bright flash was followed by the loudest report yet. Moments later, the walls of the shelter shook as something massy dropped to the ground nearby.

* * *

Apart from Simon and River, entire ship's company was standing around the feed from _Serenity's_ telescope, watching as it tracked the cruiser. That great ship had now moved between Ebenezer and Marley, and was visible mainly from its own lighting. Three green sparks appeared from behind the cruiser and fell towards the planet. 

"What's that?" Wash said.

"Troop transports," Zoe replied. "They must be pretty serious about putting down the Reavers here. Could be a hundred purplebellies in each of those things." Other, smaller lights, swarmed around the cruiser, craft too small for the telescope's resolution.

Inara, standing a little apart from the rest, glanced up through the windows. The night side of Ebenezer was entirely toward them now, slightly grey in the back-scatter from the moon. She was playing with a poem which the view inspired, but the notion that it might be a memorial kept disturbing her as she tried to compose. If Book were gone, then really the only thing to hold her on Serenity any longer would be affection for Kaylee. At least, she thought, the only thing she'd allow near the surface.

She realized that she was thinking herself into a loss of emotional control. That had happened enough on this ship, and she was unwilling to have so many witnesses attend yet another outburst. Quietly, she made her way around the group at the astrogation console, and left the cockpit. No one noticed, and she hoped it was an omen.


	7. Time and Place: Clean up

Chapter 7

Sergeant Ernestine Brachman held up a hand and keyed her microphone twice. The platoon stopped, and each trooper checked their front for threats. They were spread out in a wide sweep to defeat ambushes, the line running perpendicular to the face of the valley. The little scout floater Brachman had slaved to her display showed a clearing ahead, and she wanted to take it a little easy before crossing it.

"Intensifiers off," she said into her mike. The members of her platoon flipped the light enhancing screens up into their helmet visors, and looked out into the grayness of Ebenezer's pre-dawn glow. Brachman took a moment to check her front again, moving her rifle with her head. While her platoon hadn't found any Reavers thus far, the reports from those who had found some made it clear that they were a threat as long as they were still in reasonably large pieces. Charlie Difasco had lost a man to one of them pinned under a piece of his wrecked ship, in the next sector over. She meant to take a whole platoon back to _Impregnable_.

"Odd numbers, twenty meters and hold." The man on her right scrambled forward, as did every second trooper down the line. Twenty meters should put them just outside the clearing. She waited a five count, and took a breath to order even numbers forward.

"Hello?" A voice, muffled but nearby, seemingly from the valley side of her. Brachman twisted and dropped.

"Down! Check targets!" The whole platoon fell on their fronts. She heard a chorus of grunts in her headset as various troopers landed on stumps, rocks or pieces of their own equipment.

"That's Alliance forces we hear?" A male voice, but she was damned if she could spot the source of it. "We're in a dugout, and if it's safe, we'd like to come out."

"Platoon, hold fire," Brachman said into her mike, then more loudly, "Come out slowly, and make your hands visible!"

A few moments later, there was a noise behind her. A patch of weeds was lifting, just behind her sweep line. She and the other five troops in sight trained their weapons at the apparition, realizing that one of the line must have walked over a trapdoor. A pair of tiny hands appeared, then a larger one. Shortly, a woman emerged in full view, hands high over her head and arms straight, almost like she was exercising, although the great pregnant belly in front of her hampered the effect. She was followed by an old man, in a mud-flecked priest costume. He had one hand at shoulder height, and the other held the door.

"Nobody here but us chickens," Book said, smiling benignly.

Brachman came up on one knee, her preferred shooting posture. "Michels, Khan, check it out." Two of her men moved forward cautiously, rifles on the two unexpected people until they were close enough to see into the space below the trap. They rushed inside, moving quickly to clear their comrades' lines of fire. A few seconds later, Khan called all-clear on the radio.

Squinting across at Brachman's uniform, Book said, "I have proper identification inside my jacket... Sergeant, is it?"

The two troopers emergered from Warner's House as Brachman said, "Michels, check him." The soldier grabbed a fistful of Book's jacket from behind, pushing him forward. He lost his grip on the door and it dropped loudly back in place. Book was pleasantly surprised that no one shot in response. He attended to keeping his smile in place as the soldier fished around in his jacket, eventually coming up with his ID case.

Brachman called over the ID, and had a look at it. She didn't have a reader to check the details on the chip, but it looked straight enough, and these two certainly didn't look like Reavers. She walked over to Book, holding out the case. "She got any ID?"

Book said, "I'll vouch for her. We were together at the chapel when the warning sounded."

Brachman noticed a dark brown bottle with a wire-and-ceramic stopper peeking out of the pocket of the woman's dress. "Having a little party?"

"Laying some poison against mice," Book replied, and then in a confiding tone, "They get into the host."

"Right. Between here and town has been checked, there's no hostiles, so go straight back and you should come to no harm. You go wandering, you're apt to get shot."

* * *

Han sat on the edge of the small desk of his day cabin. The reports from the surface indicated that the problem was essentially dealt with. The Facility, which had only been found by the Reavers minutes before _Impregnable's_ fighters had hit atmo, was secure, and that was the only real concern he had here. He'd have the garrison platoon rotated out, put in some fresh troops-- according to Hopper, those few minutes had been enough to cause some serious morale issues. 

He might face some repercussions for the damage done to the ship, but that seemed a distant likelihood. The action reports would sustain him, and High Command's main concern had been kept from harm. He'd done his duty. "Gascoyne, have section heads make preparations for return to patrol. I want us underway in three hours. Put in a call for a supply rendezvous as well."

The ship's god having spoke, his adherents rushed off to make his will manifest. Just over two and a half hours later, _Impregnable_ was moving out of orbit.

* * *

Jayne had pressed once more for abandoning Ebenezer as a bad risk. He argued, with some conviction, that there was no real evidence that the planet wasn't swarming with Reavers, bereft of ships and slavering for an opportunity to secure a new one. He was unconvinced that the situation on the surface would be obvious well before they were low enough for even very tall Reavers to attempt boarding. 

When it became clear that this line of reasoning was not going to carry the day, he changed tack. "Y'know, those folks down there ain't gonna be too happy to see us back. Run out an' left 'em to the Reavers, that makes folks mighty unhappy. Unhappy folks tend to express themselves all violent."

Mal nodded. "Yep. And if there's a torch-waving mob at the port, we'll not be staying too long neither. I'm not debating this any more, Jayne. We go back."

Unexpectedly, Zoe came in on Jayne's side. "I might be smart to lay back a couple of days, sir, let things settle down a bit."

Mal crossed his arms over his chest, looking from Zoe to Jayne and back. He knew that technically his word was law on _Serenity_, but like a king of old, he had to consider whether anyone would actually obey the law once it was laid. His authority lay in not yet having been disastrously wrong and in his apparent willingness to use a gun. The former was actually more useful than the latter, as there were some people on the crew that shooting would prove very counter-productive. Most would also shoot back.

"Fine. We stay here two days more, 'less Kaylee says all this sunshine is overwhelming our life support."

River blundered into the kitchen. Although it was finally breaking up enough for her liver to get ahold of it, the somnambutol was still affecting her. She looked around the grim faces in the room, and smiled drunkenly.

"S'okay. Storm's over. Rainbows!" She reeled towards Jayne, and he stepped back. "Write your mom," she declared with some conviction, and sat firmly on the floor between two chairs.

"Well," said Mal, working to maintain some grimness in his expression, "I'm glad that's settled."

* * *

Book had watched _Serenity _dropping toward port a half-hour earlier. He could have made his was back to town by now, but he wanted to get as much accomplished as he could. When he heard the mule grumbling up the path, he knew that his time was up. 

"You planning on staying?" Wash called from the saddle of the mule. Book looked down at him from the roof of the chapel.

"No." He made his way to the ladder. "Just trying to clear up some of the mess left here. What have you got there?"

Wash glanced over his shoulder at the collection of small boxes in the mule's basket. "Oh, Mal thought a few spare tools and some extra med supplies we had lying around should be left here. Guy in town said we might as well send it on to the chapel, that's where the Alliance set up a med tent."

Book smiled as he grasped the top of the ladder. He had a pretty clear idea how little unnecessary material was aboard the ship, and was once again amazed at how far Reynolds would go to appear surly and hard-shelled. "Yes, the tent's around the back, out of the wind."

As Wash putted around the chapel, Book slung the basket he'd been filling over his shoulder. He looked over at the source of the fragments he'd been pulling out of the domed roof, an engine nacelle almost the size of the chapel. It had dropped a long way after being blown off the ship it belonged to, and had made a small, slightly lopsided crater when it hit. A slight change in some of the variables, and Warner's work would be no more than a pile of dust surrounding a lump of metal. Divine favour? Random chance?

Was there that much of a difference?

He had set to work doing what repairs he felt competent to accomplish, but he didn't know whether the gouges left in the exterior of the rammed-earth structure would prove a problem in the end. He didn't know enough about the building technique. Warner, he reflected, had spent his youth rather more profitably.

He wondered idly where Amber might be now. Once they had returned to town, she had been lost to him in the general chaos left by the attack. He had no idea what she had decided, and had been unwilling to ask questions around town for fear of either raising suspicions in others or provoking action by her

He took this basket-full to a pile of similar debris which he and a couple of other devout souls from town had been putting together. As he dumped it, he allowed his mind to wander to a possible Ebenezer, in a better future. It was a foolish notion, and Book shook his head at it. A form of hubris, to believe that he might have so much influence on a person who may not even be born. On the other hand, his profession was largely concerned with planting seeds of hope in the future. Whether or not those seeds flourished with Amber, it was only human to wonder whether a garden might prosper. He let the fantasy play on as he made his way along the path.

The chapel, still there decades hence in his fancy, still a testament to the miracle of human determination, but dwarfed by a new cathedral the now-prosperous parishioners of Ebenezer had erected. Presiding over the well-fed and content congregation, an elderly Jules, his pocket weighted with a ragged but still servicable bible, given him in his youth by his mother.


End file.
